His Greatest Mystery
by The Truly Impossible Girl
Summary: It has been a rough year on Sherlock Holmes since his sister had died, but things are about to take a turn when John finds a letter under the mat... Book two in my Elizabeth Holmes series
1. Prologue

**I'm back guys! =D Now here are a couple tide-bits of information you might be interested in:**

**No, I'm not going to finish my Doctor Who story. I'm going to leave it up to the imagination of my readers to finish.**

**Don't go to the YouTube channel posted on my page because I don't use that channel anymore. My new channel: Miss Belle… **

**On my YouTube channel I talk about more than just fanfic, but I will do readings of my popular fics and talk about upcoming projects**

**Enjoy the story! It's just the prologue so it could be more exciting… Just take it as you read it.**

**In the perspective of Dr. John Hamish Watson**

It was a lovely Sunday evening, well…Sunday night to be more exact. Mary and I were walking amongst the same tombstones we had over five years ago. "It'll feel like forever ago!" My wife was saying, trying to brighten the mood, just before we left the house. "It'll be like we've never even been there, you'll see!" But as we were walking through the tall grass, against the slightly chilling breeze, it felt like only yesterday that we were there mourning the loss, or what we thought was a loss, of our dear friend Sherlock.

But tonight's different. Tonight, it isn't just Mary and I walking in the dark. Tonight, there's a crowd of people following us. Some from Oxford, some from Baker Street, even some from Scotland Yard; all holding candles in memory of the young Elizabeth Holmes, who died exactly one year ago tonight trying to make Oxford safe from a serial killer.

I can think of only one person who isn't marching along the graves with us; the only person that I would think needs it the most. Mr. Sherlock Holmes…

**In the perspective of Detective Sherlock Holmes**

I sat alone that night in my dark and deserted flat on Baker Street. All I did was think as I stared out the window at the tree across the street. Baer of its' leaves and quivering in the wind, the tree was a perfect reminder of what had happened exactly one year ago today.

The date was November 2, 2013. I had just discovered that the young 20-year-old law student that was trying to help me solve the murder of her best friend, was also my little sister. And that was also the night that she was shot in the head and killed.

What happened next was all vary vague to me; a blur if you will. All I can really remember is grabbing the case file and reading it over and over like a mad man. The case was solved, of course. We matched up the DNA of the killer to that of a body we found months ago in the morgue. A Mr. Danny Bloom; that's the man who killed my sister.

After that everyone seemed to move on. Even my parents, who've told me they gave Lizzy up because they were getting too old to take care of a child when they had her. Mycroft tells me to just move on. "She wasn't ours," he'd tell me. "We never knew her and we never will." After those conversations I would always be too frustrated and angered to talk to him; I was always happy to hear John plainly say that I knew her. And even though he still denies it, my brother knew her better than I did. I remember him visiting one night, shortly after she had died, and he was holding a file under his coat; I glimpsed at it before he left that night, it was titled Elizabeth Amelia. That was her name and I will never forget it.

**Ok, so prologue is out of the way now I can really get into this. So exited! **

**Hope you all enjoy **** R&R**


	2. The Game is On

**I feel like I'm on a roll! Just finished reading my last story (Broken Oath, not Torn) and I just kept reading that one scene where Elizabeth was shot over and over and I got the chills! **

The anniversary of Elizabeth's death has come and gone; now it was December, and it was time for Mrs. Hudson to sweep under the rugs she keeps in the entryway of the small house on Baker Street. Just as she was fetching her broom and dustpan from the coat closet right outside the door to her flat, John came in the front door.

Mrs. Hudson perked her head up as she heard the door creek open and saw John come in. "Would you mind moving those rugs for me John? Time to sweep the floors again."

"I'd be happy to." As he crouched down to pick up the two rugs, John couldn't help but notice the sight of something under the front mat. He slowly picked it up and saw the remains of what looked like a letter. "Mrs. Hudson, when was the last time you cleans under here?"

"About two years ago dear." She began saying as she walked over to the spot on the floor that John was asking about with a broom and dustpan. "I would have last year but…" She was stuttering on her words for just a split second. "…But I guess time just got away from me is all. How bad is it?"

"It's not that," John began as he collected the pieces of the letter and stood up. "I found these." He showed her the remains of the paper…

…And she looked at them. "What do you think they are John?"

"I don't know." He put the pieces in his coat pocket and looked upstairs. "But I bet Sherlock would." And with that he started to make his way up, hearing the violin music getting louder and louder with every step until he came to the door and heard it stop completely; along with the word "Enter."

Sherlock was standing at his desk holding his violin by the neck and facing the doorway, watching as John walked in. "Nice jumper," he said sarcastically and with a small chuckle.

John slowly walked over to his chair. "Now why do you always comment on my shirts?" And with that he sat down, still looking at Sherlock.

"Why do you always have to wear silly jumpers," he said sternly as he followed John's example and sat down in the chair opposite him. Sherlock then leaned in and looked at John. "Now, tell me, what's in your pocket?"

As Sherlock said it, naturally John went into his pocket and pulled out the five pieces of paper he found under the mat. "Found this under the mat." He handed he pieces to Sherlock and watched as he began to examine them. "According to Mrs. Hudson, they could be anywhere from two-years-old to a day…"

"They were ripped and put there a year ago." Sherlock interrupted. "And I'm going to assume this letter, as a whole, was and still is intended for me; but why rip it up?"

"I don't know." John looked on as Sherlock examine the letter. "Could be a puzzle."

And with that being said, Sherlock's head perked up and he stared at John. "What did you say?"

"I don't know." Fearing he was wrong, John sat back in his chair and rested his elbow on its' arm. "I just thought maybe it was meant to be a puzzle, or a game…" That's when he got it. The last person that he knew of that had asked Sherlock to play a game was also the person who buried a bullet in his sister's brain. "Oh my god. So what you're telling me is that, that letter is from Brooks?"

"Or Lizzy…" Sherlock smiled for the first time in over a year as he held onto the pieces of the letter that could be from his late sister. "Call Lestrad."

John watched as Sherlock stood up and walked over to his work. "And I'm going to do that because?"

"Need more chemicals." He put one of the largest pieces under his microscope to have a closer look. "I want to know who wrote this letter, who tore it up and most importantly exactly when it was slide under the door. Now hurry up, while I try to make out what these smudges read."

That's how it all started. His greatest case came to him in that large shred of paper that simple read: Find me.

**Yes, suspense, because why not. Next chapter I have no idea what is about. Idea will probably come by Monday, but who knows. **


	3. I didn't know

**Ok so apparently I changed the killer's last name from 'Bloom' to 'Brook.' Oh, well; I guess his name's hyphenated then. Enjoy **

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Sherlock stormed into the laboratory of St. Bart's Hospital, looking furious. "I cannot believe that inspector doesn't even have the basic chemicals I need!"

John followed him into the room. "Hello Molly," he said as he saw the young doctor working in the corner of the room.

Molly Hooper took her eyes from her microscope and watched the two walking further into the lab. "Hello John, Sherlock." She walked over to the metal work table in the center of the room and stood opposite the spot John and Sherlock were standing. She leaned on the table as she spoke to them. "And how may I help you two?"

Sherlock shook his head. "Molly, fetch me the Bloom-Brook file." He didn't even have to look, he just felt the glare John was giving him. He shorted, "please?"

Molly giggled and walked over to her filing cabinet. Once she found the file, she looked back at the two. "May I ask why you need these, Sherlock?"

Sherlock snatched up the file the second Molly had placed it in the center of the table. "I need to familiarize myself." He opened up the file and began walking as he flipped through the file, leaving a questioning look on Molly's face.

John looked at Molly and put on a grimes face. "He thinks his sister might still be alive."

"I do not think that, John!" Sherlock snapped and then, once he realized what he had done, he blushed slightly in embarrassment. "I just want to…"

Surprisingly, it was Molly who cut him off. "Sherlock…"

Sherlock took a deep breath and turned to look at Dr. Hooper. He hadn't realized until he saw the look of shock and hurt on Molly's face that told him that he'd never told Molly about Elizabeth. "I'm sorry," he said awkwardly.

Molly shook off the pain that she was feeling and once again smiled. "I can help you. What does she look like? I may have a body that…"

"Not this time Molly." John let out a big sigh as he saw Molly's eyes turn to him. "Her body was never found."

"Not even by me; and you know how I can get." Sherlock said grimly before clamping the file shut and pulling the letter pieces out of his pocket. "I need you to analyze these." He walked over to the table and threw the pieces and the file down in front of Molly. "The biggest piece has a bit of blood of in. Figure out the blood type; I need to be alone." He left the room; leaving Molly and John behind.

Molly took the pieces and looked at them with sad eyes; they even started to water. "I had no idea." She took the piece Sherlock was told her about and submerged it in an anti-body solution before wiping away the tears.

"He doesn't like talking about it. The only people who know about Elizabeth are the people that were involved in the case." As he spoke, John moved so that he could be next to Molly; feeling that he should both to assist and comfort.

"Elizabeth; was that her name?"

John chuckled. "If you ask Sherlock, it's Lizzy." He followed Molly's example and leaned on the table. His tone changed; it became sadder. "But, when she was alive…" he trailed off.

Molly wiped her eyes. "I'm gonna go talk to him." She began to walk towards the door Sherlock just walked out of moments ago. "Watch that test for me," was the last thing she said before she walked out the door.

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Molly found Sherlock staring out the window. His gaze was sad and confused; and all she could think of doing was stand by him as he thought, and that's what she did.

Sherlock hardly even noticed as Molly took the place beside him; close enough to be in arms reach, but far enough away that made him feel comfortable. He let out a small sigh, "I didn't know she was my sister, you know."

Molly looked at him. Her expression went from comforting to that of surprise.

Sherlock had that half smile on his face that he often wore. "I was in finishing school and Mycroft was just starting university. My parents were getting old and they didn't want to hand the burden over to us. So they just gave her up and never told us about her because they didn't want to upset us."

"I'm so sorry Sherlock." Molly started crying again. She felt bad; she knew Sherlock was always ridiculed as a child, maybe it would have been easier with a shoulder to cry on.

Sherlock rolled his eyes in disgust, not believing what he was about to do; but at that moment he just wanted her to stop sobbing. So he pulled her in and held her.

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**So… can you tell what I am adding here? Can you? Maybe not. It was so sneaky and at the end there. **

**R&R**


	4. Alive

**So can you tell I'm pretty excited about this story? I've also been thinking about re-writing 'The Broken Oath,' not sure about that yet though. There's a poll on my profile about it; so do me a huge favor and check that out for me.**

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Sherlock rushes through the doors that lead back into the laboratory, and Molly slowly follows; still sad over the information she had just gained. She felt sorry for him; surely the presents of a younger sibling would've made the teasing more bearable, or even disappear completely. She turned this thought over and over in her mind until she found her place next the Sherlock at the examination table, where John was watching over her test. "Results back?"

"It would seem so," John said grimly. He plucked the large piece of paper out of the beaker and presented it to the two eagerly waiting to see the results.

There was a hole that was beginning to form where the blood drip had been and there was a very high possibility that Sherlock knew what it meant. "Molly, what classification of antibodies are in that beaker?"

Molly had taken her eyesight from the beaker to the piece John was holding and back again; knowing that what she was about to tell Sherlock would not make him happy. "The solutions a mixture of both A and B," she sighed and picked her head up only to see the look on Sherlock's face that told her all she needed to know. "With the hole as big as it is, I'm going to have to say that both types attacked the blood stain."

"Which would mean that were looking at an O blood type," John added; arms now folded across his chest.

"Which was the blood type of Bloom." Sherlock sighed. His only lead to this had just ran short and now he feared that this letter might always remain a mystery to him. That is, until he noticed John inspecting the piece of paper; he also noticed that it was the same piece that had the still legible writing on it that he now saw his best friend squinting at. "Do you see anything John," he asked with the cock of an eyebrow.

John began to rub his chin as he stared at the phrase on the note: Find me. "These words; they look like they were written in Elizabeth's hand writing, but I'm not positive." He transferred the piece from one hand to the other and handed it to Sherlock.

Sherlock snatched the pieces from John and began to examine the phrase once more. "Do you have anything we can use as a comparison?"

John put his hand in his pocket and retrieved his phone. "I'll call Mary. We still have a couple of her notes she had left us in the past." With that said he typed a few numbers in his phone, put it up to his ear, and walked out of the room; leaving Molly and Sherlock behind.

Molly turned to the detective and watched as he examined the paper in his hand. He looked so determined; _"he'd never be this way if I went missing," _she thought as she continued to gawk at him. It wasn't until John walked back in the room and Sherlock glanced at her from the corner of his eye did she quickly placed her eyesight back on John and embarrassingly turned red.

John placed his mobile back in his pocket as he approached his two friends standing at the table in the center of the room. "Mary said she's going to text you a photograph of Elizabeth note."

Sherlock quickly retrieved his phone as it began to buzz, not taking his eyes off the letter fragment until he opened Mary's text. 'I hope you find her' were the only words he saw that weren't positioned dead center of the picture Mary had sent. Sherlock looked from his phone to the piece and back again and half smiled. "The words match."

Molly, whose face had settled back to its usual pale complexion, was smiling at Sherlock again. "So the note came from her." Her smile dulled as the next thought presented itself to her. "But was she the last to touch it?"

Sherlock put his phone down on the table and went back to examining the letter. "The only DNA I found on any of the pieces was this speck of blood."

"In other words, he doesn't know." John smirked across the table at Sherlock who was now glaring at him.

"If you want you could leave some pieces with me."

Sherlock ripped his eyes from the letter and looked at the pathologist like she was crazy for bringing up the idea.

Molly cleared her throat. "I could date the pencil markings if you'd like? Find out when Elizabeth wrote it?"

Sherlock smiled softly before handing her the piece. "Lizzy. I call her Lizzy," he told her as he walked by. "Come along John; back to Baker Street." And, just like that, the two were gone.

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Sherlock and John exited the front of the building with smiles on their faces; the only thought in their heads being: she could still be alive.

"She could still be alive." It came out of the figure's lips so smoothly and with such care. The masked figure hiding amongst the shrubbery and trees that encircled St. Barts could only snicker at the thought. _"And so the game begins."_

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**I hope you liked it and I hope you all vote! That's kind of why this story is progressing in the manner it is. If I'm going to re-write 'The Broken Oath' I'd like to have some time to do it.**


	5. EH

**So I recently had an idea; it's a very wonderful idea, but at the same time it's kind of evil. I guarantee you'll love it though!**

**R&R**

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Almost a month had passed since Sherlock had given Molly the letter, with thoughts that she could carbon date the graphite. But, sadly, he was informed only a day after that the letter remains had vanished from the laboratory and Molly couldn't do a thing with her photo copied versions. So Sherlock's case had dried up, and everyone's lives had moved on.

That is, everyone except Sherlock, was went back to his disappointed state as he sat in his parent's living room on Christmas morning. He had protested going, but John and Mary insisted he shouldn't be alone.

John and Mary sat on the sofa in front of the fire while talking to Mr. Holmes who sat next to them; and Mycroft sat on the opposite end of the room from Sherlock. Just as Mrs. Holmes walked in, holding the hand of John and Mary's daughter she lightly smacked the back on her sulking sons head as she let go of the hand of the now walking toddler. "No sulking at Christmas," she uttered to him as she went to sit next to her husband.

Sherlock rubbed the back of his head harshly. "What is the point of this anyway?"

Mr. and Mrs. Holmes turned to look at each other before turning back to their youngest son. "Well after last year we decided it would be good to get the family together."

"Everyone but one," Sherlock mumbled under his breath.

John was close enough to hear and he responded out loud. "Are you really still on that?" The question sounded a bit angry as everyone heard and put their attention on Sherlock and John.

"Still on what son?" Mr. Holmes asked.

Sherlock grinded his teeth together in anger before answering. "I was hoping not to upset you, but about a month ago John had found a letter under one of the mats in Baker Street and I am positive it was from Elizabeth around the time that she had died." With this, Sherlock picked his head up to see all the newly sadden faces, and Mycroft's slightly angered face, around him; especially his mother's now sobbing face.

"I was trying to avoid this," she said between sobs.

"Sherlock, honestly!" Mycroft snapped as he saw the site that his brother had created. "She's gone! Now just let it go."

At the scene in the room, the Watson's daughter tugged on her mother's sleeve until she got Mary's attention. "Mummy, whose Elizabet?"

This made everyone in the room fall silent as the young toddler stared at her mother, looking for an answer in her eyes. Mary blinked away the tears as she mentally prepared to answer her daughter. "Well sweetie, she's an old friend of ours; an old friend of all of us." Mary looked around the room as she answered, hoping that she wasn't the only one crying.

She wasn't disappointed. Almost everyone in the room's eyes was watering; even Sherlock's eyes were puffy. That is, until he got a text.

Sherlock shook his head, obviously snapping himself out of this emotional moment, before picking his phone out of his pocket and smirked at what he saw.

LOOKS LIKE YOU COULD USE A CLUE –E

Sherlock replaced his phone in back into his pocket before standing up and starting towards the door. "Happy Christmas everyone," he threw cheerfully over his shoulder as he walked out.

Mrs. Holmes looked out the door, her eyes following her youngest son. No longer upset she muttered: "Follow him."

The Watsons looked at each other. John nodded at his wife before standing up and running out the door, eventually catching up to his friend. "So what are we getting into this time?"

"I don't know," Sherlock said as his phone went off. As he reached to retrieve it, his smile grew. "But whatever it is, something'll come of it." As he saw the message light up on his phone, he flashed it to John so he could see just what will happen; and he smiled too.

FIND ME –EH

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**This chapter was basically written for the purpose to progress it. AKA, the ideas I mentioned above is going to begin creeping very soon; you might not see it, but it'll be there. If you have any ideas, any at all, of what my little surprise is feel free to message me and if you're right you will win.**


	6. Scavenger Hunt

**I just read this really sad fic and got the sudden urge to write this chapter. So, pushing my health essay aside, here it goes!**

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Sherlock ran along the uneven cobblestone walkways of Oxford with both rain and wind slamming into his face. He ran alone that night, not wanting John to slow him down and wanting to find his little sister on his own.

It has been two days since he had gotten the text from Elizabeth.

_Two days before_

John and Sherlock were standing just outside the Holmes' little house, staring at Sherlock's phone and the text that read 'Find me.' The two then looked at each other in both excitement and disbelief at what they just saw.

"Do you think it's really her?" John's voice cracked as he said it. He wanted her to be alive, wanted to know she was ok; but he knew other people could be at work here. "Are we sure it's not just Moriarty?"

Sherlock took a deep breath, hoping that it wasn't true and that Moriarty was still gone. "I doubt its Moriarty, John. Last we've heard from him, he was on a video that took over London's television screens almost two years ago."

Mary emerged from the house and began walking towards the two as they were talking. "What is it now?" She came to a halt just a few feet from the two men. They turned to look at her as she continued talking. "Why do you both look so…" She cut herself off as she saw the looks on their faces; she'd never seen Sherlock look so hopeful.

"It might be her." John stepped towards his wife and took her hand in his. "She might be alive."

A smile grew on Mary's face. "That's brilliant!" She turned her attention to Sherlock. "You must be so happy."

Sherlock offered a small smile and nodded towards her slightly. "It would be nice, but I don't want my parent to know yet."

John let go of his wife's hand and turned to look his best friend in the eyes again. "Why is that?"

Sherlock started back toward the house, but stopped when he was half way there and turned back to answer his friends question. "If the off chance is true and it is Moriarty then what do I tell them when I don't find her?" His face turned solemn as he looked at his two friends, waiting for an answer.

Mary nodded. "He's right. Best that you wait to chase this one." She started walking towards the house with John by her side.

When Sherlock finally knew he was alone, he pulled out his phone to look at the last once more. He smiled as he stared at it. "Don't worry," he whispered into the wind. "I will find you."

_Present Day_

As Sherlock neared the door to Elizabeth's former resident he reached out so when he finally did reach the door he could tear it open; and once it was, up the stairs he ran into the dark abuse that was his sister's flat. He reached for his phone to use as a torch and as soon as the room lite up he saw something on the far wall. He shined the light on the red lettering and read it. "November 2, 2014; go to the place you should have been." It was no puzzle for Sherlock Holmes, he knew exactly where it led to.

Sherlock ran down the stairs and out of the flat, stopping just outside the door. He knew what he had to do, but he couldn't make himself do it alone. He looked at the phone in his hand, dialed, and put the device to his ear. "Molly…"

_Back in London…_

A figure wearing a dark cloak knocked on the door of a building and waited to be let in. Not a minute later was the door opened by a tall man with very kind eyes. The figure removed her hood. "Jim, I need your help."

Jim looked up and down the street, seeing that she wasn't followed, and signaled for her to come in. Once she did, he closed the door and looked it before he turned to face her. She hadn't changed much since he'd last seen her. Still very thin, hair still black as night, eyes still green as emeralds; exactly the same as the last time. He smirked at her; obviously glad to see her again. "I thought you stopped running."

She smirked back at him. She loved how cryptic he could be. "I did, but I need your help." She watched as he got closer and didn't continue until he was inches from her. "My family's about to meet the girl they thought died a long time ago. How am I supposed to show them that I'm still here?"

Jim rolled his eyes and stretched his neck out a bit before caching her gaze and answering. "All I can tell you love, is to come back with bang." As the words softly came out of his mouth, he placed his thin hand on her equally thin cheeks and when his sentence ended, he closed the space between them and quickly kissed her lips. As he pulled back his smirk became a smile and he looked back at her smiling, and somewhat pink, face. "Now let's get you cleaned up."

She took his hand, still a little flustered, and walked up the stairs to his flat.

_Kensal Green Cemetery_

Molly walked timidly through the cemetery holding a single red rose. She was trying not to look at the world's only consulting detective that stood next to her. When she had meet him just down the block, Sherlock had seen better days. His eyes were blood shot, puffy, and tear stained; it was easy to see that this was hard for him and why he needed her so badly. Suddenly, she felt Sherlock stop in his tracks beside her, so she couldn't help but look at the expression that was on his face. Was he crying?

Sherlock couldn't believe what he was seeing and the worst part was he knew that it was actually real. What he was looking at, what he couldn't believe existed, what was making him actually cry was his baby sister's tombstone. He ran up to the grave and knelt before it, gripping onto it as to prove to him that it was actually there. It didn't take him long to remember the modest pathologist that now stood beside him. He watched as she placed the rose on top of his sister's grave and kneel down next to him, to pay her respects. He quickly wiped his eyes, not wanting her to see him in this way. "I'm sorry Molly."

She picked her head up and turned to face him. She saw the tear flowing and the hurt in his eyes, so she smiled and placed her hand on his chest for comfort. "It's not your fault. You didn't kill her."

This put a weight on Sherlock's chest. Other than the warmth coming off of Molly's hand, the truth burned him and it needed to be let out. "But I did kill her…" That's when Sherlock Holmes, the man with no emotions, broke down and began to cry.

At this Molly started to panic a bit. She'd never seen him open up before, to anyone, and now here he is, sobbing in front of her. She hated how it looked on him, even made her want to cry. "You didn't pull the trigger. You played a guessing game that was impossible to get right. Not because you wanted to, but because you were forced to." She then went in to hug Sherlock and, surprisingly, he let her.

Sherlock slowly stopped crying and hugged her back. He like the feeling of her warmth and, for a moment, he wanted more of it to help fix the state he was in. But that moment quickly went away when he look at the tombstone and saw a letter folded up at its base, covered by some unkempt grass. "Hello, what's this?" He let go of the pathologist and picked the letter out of the grass and carefully opened it. That's when everything got colder, Molly's face turned into that of shock, and Sherlock's turn into that of rage.

HONEY, YOU SHOULD SEE HER IN A CROWN.

-J

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**Now this is just a prediction, but I think the hate comments will start right about now; or not. I do my research, don't forget.**


	7. Find me

**Not even twenty-four hours have passed since I last uploaded; that's how you can tell this chapter will be good.**

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Sherlock ran down the streets of London with Molly at his side; headed straight for the Tower of London. It had been 5 days since he first heard from Lizzy and if Moriarty had really left that note like he had suspected, then she would surely be dead by now; that is if she was, in fact, alive.

Molly was running just as fast as he was. Elizabeth meant so much to Sherlock, it would be awful if he went through all this and it ends up Moriarty killed her. It wasn't fair! She has to be alive, she just has to!

They rounded the corner and came face-to-face with their destination. They stopped just outside the gates and Sherlock retrieved his phone from his jacket pocket. "Molly, I'll call Lestrad and get this place evacuated. You go check the jewels. I'm guessing it hadn't started yet since there is no mass panic."

Molly watched as he rapidly dialed and put the phone to his ear before she ran off into the tower. Pushing through the crowd, hoping she wasn't too late. She ran up the stairs in anticipation; pushing everyone away that crossed her path. She didn't care that she was being rude, she just wanted to get done what she had to do.

Molly then stopped in her as she heard the bell go off for everyone to evacuate. At least her job was going to be easier now that the jewel room would be empty. She pushed on, now with the room in sight; ignoring the people that were running past her.

When she reached the door, there was no one left; except for the girl with dark hair that sat against the wall reading. Molly smiled when she saw the book. _To Kill a Mockingbird_, her favorite. She slowly approached the girl and crouched down to her level once she was close enough. "Aren't you going to evacuate?"

The girl peered above the rim of her book at Molly and immediately locked eyes with her. "I can't go." Her eyes went back on her book. "I'm waiting for someone.

At this, Molly was intrigued. She sat down next to the girl to talk some more. "Who are you waiting for?"

She answered without even lifting her gaze from the book. "Someone I hadn't seen for a while." She closed her book, and turned to look at the stranger she was talking to. "Someone special."

Molly looked at the girl in astonishment. She couldn't believe what she was seeing; her hair was just as dark, if not darker, her eyes had the same shimmer as his did, and with her high cheek bones there was no doubt in her mind who she was looking at, and so she smiled. "Are you by chance Elizabeth Holmes?"

The girl smiled at Molly. "Who else would I be. And I'm guessing you know my brother?"

Molly's eyes began to water as she looked at the girl everyone thought was dead. "He's outside."

Elizabeth's smile grew wider, now showing her whiten teeth, and she stood up. "Please take me to him."

Molly stood up and nodded. That's when they both began to make their way out of the tower.

As they walked, Molly got a better look at Elizabeth from the corner of her eye. She was tall, about 5'6, she was wearing black jeans with a purple button down on top; _'Just like Sherlock,'_ Molly thought.

They finally made their way out of the tower. That's when Molly noticed Elizabeth was no longer beside her, but still in the tower, crying. Molly looked at her and got concerned. "What's wrong?"

"What if I'm not what he wants?" She tried her best to speak between sobs. "What if I could have been better?"

Molly hurried up to Elizabeth and did her best to comfort Lizzy by hugging her. "Sweetheart, that man has been looking for you since the day we thought you died. You'll be everything he wants and more…"

_Outside the tower's wall_

Greg had just arrived at the tower and now getting out his car to see what Sherlock had called him for. "What is it now, Sherlock?"

Sherlock turned around to see only one police car that Lestrad had driven there and the only person getting out of the passenger seat was Sally Donovan. "Oh for God sakes George, I said bring forces not Miss. Donovan." As it was said, Sherlock's face stiffened as he picked the note out of his trouser pocket.

"It's Greg you git!" Sally said as she slammed the door to the police car. "Now what's this all about?"

Sherlock handed Greg the note as Sally got closer. "I'm thinking Moriarty." He watched as the DI read over the note again and again.

Greg handed the note over to Sally. "Are you sure? It doesn't seem like him to leave a note."

"Or just to use his first initial." Miss. Donovan added before she dropped her hand holding the note to her side as she saw two people emerge from the tower of London. _'But that's not possible.' _She heard the story of Sherlock's sister from Lestrad and knew there was no way she could be alive, but the girl walking next to Molly fit the exact description.

"Sally? Are you o…" He cut himself off once he had followed her vision and eyes locked on the girl that he watched die over a year ago. "Sherlock you might want to turn around."

"Why would I do that?" As usual Sherlock was refusing to do so, but if he had he'd see the tear-stained girl that Molly was escorting only a few feet behind him.

Elizabeth looked at Molly for reassurance and watched as the pathologist slightly nodded. She turned back to her brother, who still had his back turned. "Find me, Sherlock."

As Sherlock heard the word, he changed. The expression of anger and frustration left his face, only to be replaced by shock and happiness; now he wasn't exactly smiling, but you could tell he was happy. He still didn't turn around, he just stood there, eyes closed and talking loudly in his mind. _"I knew it…"_

Elizabeth didn't wait for him to turn around. She walked up to her brother and rested her hand on his shoulder, as if to prove to him she was really there. "Please?"

At this, Sherlock turned around immediately and found himself face-to-face with his dead sister. He smirked at her and put his hand on her cheek. "I always knew you were alive."

Greg then snapped out of his train of thought. "Well I bloody didn't."

This made Sally grin and take her place next to Greg. "Well this proves it." She folded her arms and looked Elizabeth up and down. "Freaks got a sister."

Elizabeth waved the comment off; she wasn't going to let it bother her on this occasion. "Sherlock, I don't want to run anymore. Can we just go home?"

Sherlock smiled, a real smile this time. "Greg can you drive use?"

Greg simple nodded, not wanting to ruin the moment by pointing out Sherlock had gotten his name right, for once.

They all headed for the police car, except Sherlock, who stopped Molly in her tracks. "Thank you."

Molly blushed slightly as she watched him walk to the car and eventually followed.

_One awkward car ride later_

Elizabeth climbed out of the police car as they arrived at 221 Baker Street. It was snowing, and almost midnight. She and Sherlock quietly walked into the building and up the stairs to his flat. She'd be staying there, that's what Sherlock had said. Now on the small sofa and under a blanket, Elizabeth curled up in a ball and pretended to sleep while her brother 'secretly' watched over her from his chair on the other side of the sitting room.

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX**

**And that's all she wrote...**

** (Rule #1: The writer always lies.)**


	8. Not Dead

**If you're anything close to a sociopath like I am, never be board; it's unbearable!**

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX**

Happy that their daughter was at her grandparents for the holiday, John and Mary speed down the road. John was too focused on the road ahead to notice Mary on his phone, staring at the text her husband got from their friend Sherlock early that morning.

BAKER STREET. COME AS QUICKLY AS POSSIBLE. –SH

"What do you suppose happen?" Mary was talking quite fast as her husband turned onto Baker Street.

"I don't know, but it seemed urgent for him." John pulled up to the curb outside 221 Baker Street. The two Watsons ran out of the car and into the building. As they began making their way up the stairs they grew concerned at what they heard. Nothing. They ran up the stairs, expecting the worst; but when they ripped open the door, the stopped in their tracks.

Mary's smile grew wide when she saw the girl still sleeping on the sofa. "You found her."

John could do nothing but turn and stare at his friend, who was sitting in his chair, smiling. "How is it that you keep doing this?"

"Doing what?" Sherlock got out of his chair and walked into the kitchen.

John walked into the room and started for the kitchen after Sherlock. "Finding things that shouldn't exist."

Sherlock smirked as he filled the kettle with water. "Told you I'd find her."

While he put the kettle on, Mary walked in and crouched down beside Elizabeth, studying her face as she slept. She stood up and walked over to join the two men in the kitchen. Her eyes locked on Sherlock right away. "How?"

Sherlock shrugged. "What can I say? She's a Holmes." As his sentence ended, the kettle began to whistle; which, Sherlock guessed, work Elizabeth because of some muffles he heard in the other room. He smiled and poured a cup of tea before heading into the other room, finding his sister leaning on her hand and rubbing her eye with the other. "Morning Lizzy."

Elizabeth lowered her hand from her eye and sat up, now looking at her brother. "Good morning Sherlock."

Sherlock walked over to her and seat the cup onto the table in front of her. "You slept well."

Elizabeth took the cup and began sipping on her tea. "I did once I got used to you watching me." She glared at him playfully.

Sherlock threw his attention into the kitchen and directly at his best friend. "John, am I really like this?"

Elizabeth put down her tea on the table in front of her. She watched happily as John and Mary walked in from the kitchen. "Surprise," she quickly threw at them. "I'm not dead."

John smirked at her. "Yes, we can see that."

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

Mary walked up to Elizabeth, excited. "Nice to see you alive."

Elizabeth chuckled and grinned at her. "Nice to be breathing again," she joked as she stood up and hugged Mary just as Mrs. Hudson knocked on the door, smiling and holding a plate of waffles. Everyone in the room turned to greet her.

"Good morning Sherlock. John, Mary, nice to see you." Mrs. Hudson made her way into the flat and past everyone in the room without noticing Elizabeth standing there behind Mary. She went into the kitchen, set the plate down on the table, and began to wash her hands in the sink. "You were out late last night." She paused to turn the sink off, grab a hand towel, and walk into the living room to find three faces staring at her. "I hope you don't mind…"

That's when she saw Mary step aside, reveling the youngest Holmes to Mrs. Hudson, and that is also when her face went from her usual cheery to extremely happy. She slowly walked towards Elizabeth, who stood facing her and slightly smiling. "My God…" She was now standing in front of the girl that she thought was long dead; she turned her attention to Sherlock. "You did this didn't you?"

Sherlock simply nodded and gestured towards his sister. "Happy Christmas, for once."

Mrs. Hudson then looked back at the now smiling girl that stood before her, eyes now watering. With no hesitation she hugged the girl and was a bit taken when Elizabeth hugged her back. She pulled back and looked at Elizabeth once again. "You're a sight young lady."

"Nice to see you too." Elizabeth smiled back.

Mrs. Hudson let go of Lizzy and turned to face Sherlock, who was sitting in his chair, elbows on its arms, and hands folded together. "Is this what tonight's all about?"

Every eye in the room turned to Sherlock, but John was the first to speak up. "What exactly is happening tonight, mate?"

Sherlock looked over at the puzzled look on his best friend's face. "Well people do need to know Lizzy's alive," he quickly turned to his sister without missing a beat. "Our parents and Mycroft included."

Elizabeth's expression quickly turned from puzzled to a mixture of surprised and hurt. "Thank you, Sherlock, but…"

Mrs. Hudson cut her off. "What's wrong dear?" She held Elizabeth stare and tried to understand what was troubling her. "If it's because you're nervous…"

Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak, but Mary spoke for her. "She's not nervous." Mary walked up behind Lizzy and looked Mrs. Hudson in the eye. "Well, she is, but not in the way you're thinking." She placed both her hands on Elizabeth's shoulders and peered around her head, looking her in the eye. "I know just what you need." Mary slipped her hand down until she found the girls hand. She grabbed it and pulled Lizzy out the door, throwing over her shoulder, "We'll be back!"

_Oxford Street_

Mary had known all along that Elizabeth hadn't been nervous, but scared. She knew, playing an orphan for most of her life, how afraid she must have been. Meeting your parents, let alone the British government, for the first time is something to be scared of. Making a good first impression was essential; and, assuming that she was on the run for the past year, that purple button down, black skinny jeans, and those half-calf high brown boots were the only nice clothes she had, that is if she had any other clothes. So Mary dragged Lizzy into her favorite store, New Look, and told her to pick out a few things to try on. Once she saw Lizzy had found some things, she brought her to the dressing rooms, pushed her into one, and waited for her to come out.

Elizabeth pulled back the curtain and Mary turned to look at her. She was wearing a textured red knit jumper with a cowl neck, a pair of light denim jeans, and a pair of tan moccasins. "How do I look?"

Mary noticed she looked timid in the outfit, probably not used to situations like this, so Mary just smiled. "You look lovely dear." She stood up and walked over to Liz. "But, I'm afraid it isn't dressy enough for tonight." She caught Liz's eye before she continued. "It's the first time you're meeting your parents, Liz. A bit dressier, but you've got the right idea."

Elizabeth held Mary's gaze for a bit longer. "I never got to thank you; for this."

"It isn't a problem sweetheart." Mary waved off the comment, trying to keep a cheery mood. "I've played an orphan before; I'd like to think I know what it's like." She smiled and saw Elizabeth smile back before she returned to the dressing room to try on something new. Mary returned to her seat just outside the small room Elizabeth was in when she heard her phone go off. It was from Sherlock, no doubt. So she plucked her phone out of her pocket to see what the man wanted.

MY PARENTS JUST ARRIVED AT THE AIRPORT. YOU HAVE 20 MINUTES. –SH

ALMOST FINISHED -MW

Mary locked her phone and replaced it in her pocket. "Liz, just grab the things you like. We've got to go."

_Baker Street, 10 minute later_

Mary stumbled into 221B with a big shopping bag in her hand and Elizabeth followed closely behind. Once she'd gotten her balance she looked around the room, seeing only John and Sherlock, both staring at her. "What?"

John rolled his eyes. "Shopping, that's where you've been all day?"

Mary smiled at Elizabeth and then went back to her husband. "Oh hush!" She snapped playfully. "Now Lizzy, you take this to your room and go get ready." She handed the bags to Liz, who gladly accepted, but didn't run off before looking at Sherlock.

"Upstairs, Mrs. Hudson insist." Sherlock shared a grin with her before he saw her disappear out the door. He then turned his attention to Mary, who was now sitting on the sofa next to her husband. "What did you do?"

Mary saw Sherlock gazing at her, waiting for an answer. "I just thought she needed to feel pretty again." Mary shrugged. "She must not be used to the attention though, poor dear."

Sherlock sat back in his chair. "Yes, indeed," he said before looking towards the open door. "Poor Elizabeth Holmes."

Then all their eyes turned to the door and they saw both Lestrad and Molly walk in. Molly was carrying a large red paper bag that appeared to be full. "I hope you don't mind me bringing some food." She looked at Sherlock, who was gazing at her back. "I thought it would make it a bit easier, you know?"

Sherlock nodded and showed a small smile as the two came in.

"So you think this will make it easier for her?" Greg had already taken the beer bottle out of his jacket and began drinking. "Us being here and all?"

Sherlock exchanged a glance with John before turning back to Lestrad and answering. "I'm sure of it, but…" He trailed off looking at the door and the person that now stood in the doorway. "We'll soon find out."

With that, one by one, everyone set their eyes on the doorway and the girl that now stood in it. Elizabeth long hair was pulled back into a single braid, she was wearing a burgundy dress with long sleeves and a crochet collar; on her feet she wore black ballet flats and on her lips she wore a red lip gloss that was barely seen by anyone. "Will this do?" Her question seemed to be directed towards her brother; it was easily seen she was far too timid at the moment to ask anyone else.

He smirked at her and let out a small chuckle before getting popping up out of his chair, beginning to walk towards her. "Mummy will be thrilled." He place his hands on her shoulders and caught her gaze. He saw worry and fright in it. He placed his forehead on hers, trying to be of comfort. "There's no need to worry," he whispered. "They love you." He was so caught up in the moment, everyone was, that no one noticed Mrs. Hudson come in followed by the Holmes'.

"Eh-hum!"

Everyone's attention snapped to Mrs. Hudson at the door. Sherlock picked his head up and looked at his parents. "So glad you could come."

"We had to." Violet Holmes exchanged looks with her husband before returning to her son. "Not every day you get invited by your youngest son to a New Year's party." She took her place on the sofa with her husband; replacing John and Mary, who now stood by the window. "Say, dear, who is that you're kissing?"

That's when Elizabeth froze. _Kissing? My brother?_ _Oh, wait…_ She nearly forgot, she was supposed to be dead. Well not 'supposed to be,' but to them she still was; and she had to change that, tonight. She turned around and, as she saw her parents for the first time in her life, she smiled. "My name's Elizabeth. Sherlock was just helping me with a little problem I'm having," she turned her head to see the encouraging grin on her brother's face, "So he invited me." She turned her attention back to the two people now staring at her from the couch. Just before she spoke again, she glared at her eldest brother, who had a shocking look on his face. _He gets it. _"Sherlock helped me find out who I really am."

Violet and her husband exchanged glances once again before looking back onto the stranger that stood before them. They then looked towards their youngest son for an answer. "And did you figure it out son?"

"Well I certainly have," Mycroft spat by the door before getting smacked lightly by Mrs. Hudson.

Sherlock smiled at his parents. "Mum, Dad; May I introduce, Miss Elizabeth Holmes."

Elizabeth curtsied at the shocked looks she saw on her parents face. The 'you were dead' look was a dead giveaway. So she nervously giggles. "Sorry about the whole being dead thing by the way."

Her dad finally stood up and walked over to her. He rested a hand on her shoulder, checking if he wasn't seeing thing like his youngest son did, and smiled. "Well there's no doubt you're like Sherlock."

Her mother then stood up and took her place besides her husband. Instead of just touching her, Violet hugged her daughter. "And at least I have a daughter again."

And with that the entire room lightened and the party finally began. Elizabeth talked to her parents almost the entire night and she even got a few words in with Mycroft. It was the perfect end to the perfect day, and the perfect start to another. At midnight, she was surprised at the quick peck on the cheek she got from her parents and the hug she had somewhat gotten from Mycroft. What surprised her even more was when she saw the faint lipstick stain on Sherlock's cheek. When he caught her eye on the print, he playfully glared at her and chuckled a bit. The party went on until almost 3am when the last of the people left, leaving Sherlock alone with the sister he always wanted but never had.

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

**Wow, didn't expect it to be that long. And about the sort-of hug Mycroft gave; I wanted to do something sweet, but not kill Mycroft's character. One more chapter to go!**


	9. Epilogue

**Last chapter! So excited about this one! I'd like to thank everyone for viewing, even if this one didn't get any comments. **

**Next, I am going to re-write some of The Brocken Oath and I might even re-write some of this story as well; make Sherlock a little more 'Sherlock.'**

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX**

Elizabeth was curled up in the burgundy arm chair by the fire place in 221B, finishing up her book. That night, after the party ended and the last of her friends left, she thought she would have some time to talk with her brother; but, when the last of the lot left he had retired to his bedroom and hasn't been seen since. Now here she is, wearing her dark green skinny sweatpants that has the work 'Oxford' written down the side, a white t-shirt, her hair still in the long braid from earlier, and now on the last chapter of _'To Kill A Mockingbird._' She was so engulfed in the chapter that she barely noticed the door to her brother's room opened and Sherlock walked out in his pajamas and dressing gown. He sat across from her in his leather arm chair and hoped he'd been discrete enough for her not to notice.

Without even lifting her eyes from the last page, Elizabeth smiled slightly. "You have questions?"

Sherlock closed his eyes and let out a big sigh before looking back at her. "Indeed, but considering the situation I am only going to ask one."

Elizabeth perked her head up, shut her book, and stared directly at him. '_One question? I just rose from the dead and you're narrowing it all down to one question?! God, how in control can you get.' _She set her book down on the table next to her before letting out a small yawn and answering. "Ask away."

Sherlock reached into the inner breast pocket of his dressing gown and pulled out the letter that was found under Elizabeth's grave stone. "Who wrote this?" He handed it to her and she gladly took it.

Elizabeth silently read the note to herself, not knowing what it said. She didn't know where the parchment had come from either; that is, until she reached the signature at the bottom. She smiled at the letter as her eyes stared at the initial at the bottom. "Jim wrote this."

Sherlock's eyes opened wide and he lend forward to stare at his sister with a shocked look on his face._ Dear God, Moriarty!_ "Who's Jim?"

Elizabeth stared back at her brother with a questioning look on his face. "He saved me."

Sherlock snapped back into the calming moment immediately. "Oh." _Not Moriarty. _He stood up out of his chair. "Goodnight then."

She turned to watch him walk away. "Wait, why?"

That made Sherlock stop in his tracks. "Not important," he threw over his shoulder before continuing to walk down the hall and into his room.

**In the perspective of Elizabeth Holmes**

I stood up and threw a 'good night' down the hall before Sherlock shut his door. I sighed before heading upstairs. _What a long day. I'm exhausted. _But as I opened the door to my bedroom I froze for right there in the door way was Jim. "What are you doing here?"

He kissed the top of my and reached into his jacket pocket. "You left this at my place." He pulled out my plushy jack-o-lantern and placed it in my hand.

I looked up at him and blushed slightly. "Thank you, Jim."

He kissed me again, this time on the tip of my nose. "It's no problem, love," he said as he started tiptoeing down the stairs; but he did have one last thing to throw to me before he disappeared from my sight. "And feel free to call me James."

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX**

**I hope that last bit is enough to get you excited for my next story (and possibly review). R&R and I'll talk to you in the next one. Bye bye!**


End file.
